Herald of the Shadow

523TuHeSh

The Stardrinker had been cutting through calm waters since dawn, its sails full, its crew settled into the rhythmic work of the voyage. The sea, gentle and predictable, stretched in all directions, kissed by warm sunlight. It was the kind of evening that made even the most seasoned sailors feel at ease – until the winds shifted. Captain Cali adjusted her course and watched the few gulls flying above them take off in the direction they last saw land. Calling out to her crew and the party who had been helping out on deck she got them to keep a look out for trouble.

Captain Cali noticed it moments before the party did as her fingers tightening around the helm as a breath of colder air curled across the deck. The golden hues of the midday sun dimmed unnaturally, as if swallowed by something unseen. To the east, an ink-black smear darkened the horizon, creeping toward them as the clouds spread outwards like ink in water.

The crew, unaware of their captain’s tension, continued their duties but started to notice the storm. They were heading south and with some luck they would avoid the storm entirely. But luck was not on their side and despite them exchanging good-natured complaints about the incoming storm. ‘A squall?’ The second mate, Roth, scowled at the distant clouds. ‘Nothing unusual.’ Yet Cali remained silent, her gaze fixed beyond the approaching weather, beyond the shimmer of rain and the chromatic hues that the fading sun sent their way signalling the guarantee of rain with the storm to come.

Yet it wasn’t until her eyes glanced back towards the storm that her breath caught, a party member calling out to her at the same time as they both reached the same conclusion. There was a ship sailing out of the storm at a great speed towards them.

At first, it was just another silhouette against the dying light – no visible sails, no visible crew, a vessel drifting in the waves as though the ship itself was fleeing the storm. Cali exhaled sharply, stepping back from the wheel, fists clenched at her sides. It was likely propelled by the winds and seeking to escape from what they had suffered through. The sails were in fact there but a tattered mess and were dark as if fire hate ripped through them. The ship looked like it was in rough condition but somehow still sailing – whoever was still on board would likely be in just as bad shape and needing help, that is if there was anyone on board.

‘It’s here,’ she muttered, though no one had asked. When Roth appeared at her side they had a brief discussion where Cali could be seen visibly denying a request.

The party caught wind of her hesitation – Cali had shown no fear against the pirate ambush the previous day, nor had she faltered in the face of storms. But this? This sight had unsettled her and that gave them cause to be unsettled. As the dark ship drifted nearby, Cali having ordered their sails to be taken in but ready to be let loose in an instant they watched and hailed the other ship to see if there were any survivors.

The second mate, Roth, and several crew members peered over the rail and up at the larger ship, their initial curiosity melting into unease. The Stardrinker had been holding course, yet somehow, impossibly, the phantom vessel had drifted directly into their path out of the clouds that had now caught them, but there was no storm just a endless shadow as the clouds above blocked the sun. Despite them calling out to the crew that was on the ship it appeared as though the ship had made it here without sails or crew.

The bilge rat reported in and gave an update of what she had spied from the top of the mast. The dark ship had its hull and deck was blackened, not just by time, but with a sickly shade of decay, as though charred by fire that had never burned away. Ragged remnants of sails fluttered despite the stillness of the air. Its deck, deserted, was lined with skeletal rigging, coiled and waiting like the limbs of sleeping beasts.

And then, it happened.

The clouds above had caused them to light the lanterns around the deck to ensure that they had sufficient light to continue working. However slowly the lanterns dimmed, the flames flickering from a wind that none of them felt and it was as if the light was being drowned out by something stranger.

‘Turn us aside,’ Cali ordered, her voice taut with something close to dread.

Roth hesitated. ‘Captain—’

‘There is no crew,’ Cali interrupted. ‘No signs of distress. We move on.’

But sailors were creatures of superstition, and hesitation wormed its way through the crew. Some murmured about the unwritten laws of the sea and the good folk that braved the waters. The laws about answering the call of stranded vessels and for what happened to souls that were left to go mad on a ship devoid of sails or aid. Others whispered old tales of ghost ships, and the stories that surrounded them how there was a tale of a ship just like this that used to appear before calamity.

And the party? Their choice did not matter. The Stardrinker continued forward – whether by argument, by the demands of its second mate, or by the sheer will of the sea itself.

As they neared The Shadow, something shifted. The ship was no longer adrift – it was as if it watched them, waiting for aid or something else.

Then, from deep within its hull, a sound echoed – a groaning, ancient voice of wood and rigging stretching unnaturally. The ropes tightened. The shadows beneath its deck crawled.

---

A Guards Revelation

522TuGuRe

‘I didn’t think the head guard liked me that much to be honest.’ The guard mentioned as he chewed on some hard rations – his hands still covered in grit from the fight earlier. ‘You see this job is kinda make or break for me. I was told if I perform well then my previous failures would be overlooked and I can return to the job that I was aiming for – stable guard. It’s a good job and you get to work with magnificent horses!’. The guards name was Ymerman, a guard that worked at the palace in Wolfhall.

He had told the party that he had failed in guarding the stables that led to a prized foal being stolen. The punishment saw him demoted and sent to patrolling the worst of the districts. However, he was hand picked to guard the wagon that was carrying the royals gift and he showed more zeal than others in completing this test. With the promise of his old post back and a pardon they could not blame him.

What the party found odd was that all the guards from the palace had similar stories. Failed or found lacking in some aspect of their job and were given another chance to prove themselves in guarding the wagon. What made matters worse is that those attempting to get into the wagon had grown more violent and vicious since leaving the city with one guard being severely injured and a mercenary losing a limb when they were ambushed by a street gang near the market district. Ignoring the fact that the guards that patrolled the market also joined in the defence of the wagon these people, men and women, were desperate to get into the wagon. That was within the city walls of Wolfgard.

Now on the road to Wolfhall officially they thought the attacks would lessen – in fact they got more vicious. Traps set in the middle of the road, ambushes from the wagons that passed them by and a constant feeling of being watched haunted them at every moment. They had barely time to rest before they were moving again for fear of being found not moving at pace.

The leader of the company, Captain Edward Argent and his second in command, Anna, were a lethal and effective unit. Both of them had done this work for many years now and worked together like a well oiled machine.

Captain Argent had organised fresh horses to greet them at the next town – hopefully that would see them able to get to the city early and complete the job without being ripped to shreds.

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Unfriendly Ally

521TuUnAl

The streets of the city pulsed with restless energy as the party stepped into the open air, shaken but standing. The bounty hunter who had led the crew that hunted them, Jet, had slipped from their grasp – vanishing into the twisting alleyways before they could land the finishing blow. His presence still lingered like the scent of sweat and iron, an omen of trouble yet to come. He wasn’t gone for good. He would regroup, reassess, and return.

But the party had little time to dwell on the outcome of the fight. Their reputations hung by a thread, rumours creeping through the city like an encroaching fog. The accusation against them – false and malicious even with the evidence stacked against them – had spread fast. Too fast.

As they strode down the cobbled streets, they felt the weight of prying eyes. It felt like the whole city had turned against them, whispering suspicions and uncertainties whether directed at the party or something else remained to be seen. They weren’t fugitives – yet – but the wrong move could seal their fate and prove their guilt – only cementing their doom.

One member of the party scanned the faces in the crowd, searching for hostility, searching for recognition. A vendor tightened his grip on a sack of grain, eyes darting away. A pair of city watchmen lingered near a lamppost, discussing something in hushed tones but neither interactions seemed hostile – more uneasy. The party’s presence did not exactly go unnoticed but it wasn’t outright hostility from the whole city which was a relief.

Another party member kept their focus on the task at hand. They needed answers. Someone had orchestrated this, set them up to take the fall for the theft of the royal vaults. The bounty hunter was just the blade; they had to find the man or woman who mislead it. Then, a flicker of movement caught their attention.

Near the entrance of a quiet alley, someone stood apart from the crowd. A figure draped in unassuming cloth, blending just well enough to be overlooked – but not well enough to escape the keen eyes of those who had spent years learning when to trust their instincts.

This person wasn’t watching the streets, nor the vendors, nor the city watch. Their gaze was fixed entirely on the party. And when they noticed they’d been seen, they turned sharply and disappeared into the alley.

Without hesitation. The party followed.

They moved quickly, slipping through the narrow passage lined with damp stone and scattered refuse. The sounds of the city dulled, replaced by the echo of hurried footsteps. The figure darted through the maze-like corridors with practiced ease, leading them deeper into the underbelly of the district.

One member of the party signalled to the others. They had to be smart. If this was truly their accuser, there would be dangers ahead – perhaps more than they were ready to face.

The chase pressed on, winding through the city’s veins until the figure finally halted in an empty courtyard surrounded by towering, neglected buildings. The scent of mildew and forgotten things hung thick in the air. The figure turned to face them at last.

A young man. Thin, wiry, yet standing with quiet confidence. His clothing bore signs of wealth – not a noble’s robes, but the sort of attire worn by those accustomed to lingering in the space between legitimate dealings and more questionable pursuits.

‘I didn’t expect you to be this quick,’ he admitted, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. ‘Though I suppose I should have.’

The party spread out slightly, cautious but prepared. One stepped forward, eyes locked on him. ‘You’ve been watching us.’

A slow nod. ‘I’ve been watching the mess you’ve found yourselves in.’ He tilted his head. ‘And the mess I know you didn’t create.’

The party exchanged glances. The person who could potentially prove their innocence and who might know who the true perpetrator is was standing before them, smug, calm, unconcerned. Not a fleeing coward, but someone who had the look of someone with a winning hand.

A knowing smile curled his lips, but he did not speak immediately. Instead, he took a slow step forward, hands clasped behind his back. ‘You’ve not upset anyone in particular – just in the right place at the right wrong time. You provided an opportunity for someone to slip away unnoticed without drawing any attention to them.’ He glanced toward the exit of the courtyard. ‘These people wanted to make sure they control every aspect of this situation. And powerful people don’t like problems they cannot control. So they set you up and like other bounty hunters I get a chance at a big reward for bringing you in.’

The party braced themselves. The tension grew, the silence stretching long enough to be unbearable.

Then, he exhaled and offered a shrug. ‘But, lucky for you, I’m not particularly interested in bringing in the wrong people. But if you can help me get the right people we can help each other out.’

---

Reginald Tibidius Archer

520TuReTiAr

The wagon creaked as the party moved cautiously toward it, weapons still drawn from their earlier battle with the bandits. After the ambush, they couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The noises, rustling, shifting, an occasional noise that couldn’t be explained by the driver had grown more frequent.

With a quick glance at one another, the heroes gave a silent nod. Enough was enough.

The party deftly unlatched the wagon door and swung it open as the other members of the party convinced the wagon driver to stand aside. Inside, among the carefully wrapped crates of supposed artwork, sat Reginald Tibidius Archer, cross-legged atop a bundle of canvas, a quill in hand, scribbling furiously in a leather-bound journal.

He looked up, surprised but not panicked. ‘Ah! You found me.’ He grinned, tapping his quill against the page.

The party moved forward to question why he was there, not back in the city where they last saw him.

The artist cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘Well, my friends, I must admit – I was rather hoping to get a front-row seat to your heroics.’ He gestured grandly. ‘You see, I had lost my muse! My inspiration had run dry. I needed something… dramatic, powerful, full of risk and wonder. So, I made sure word spread that my wagon was filled with rare, priceless treasures, expecting that brigands might come sniffing about.’

‘You lured bandits on purpose?’ was what came out from the party.

Reginald nodded eagerly. ‘And it worked! You handled them magnificently. Every sword swing, every spell – it was art! I needed to witness such bravery firsthand.’ He flipped his journal to show hastily sketched outlines of the battle. ‘Your fight—it’s already taking shape into something incredible.’

when the party expressed their distaste for his risky behaviour the artist chuckled for but a moment.

‘Art! A grand masterpiece! The greatest adventure ever told!’ His enthusiasm faltered as he noticed the party exchanging concerned looks.

As the party expressed their growing concerns with the safety of this trip they reminded Reginald about the goblins that also stalked these roads about half a day from now.

Reginald tilted his head, considering. ‘Ah. Yes. That is a rather pressing concern. But I am sure that you will get us through it. And it will give me the best inspiration I can ask for!’

The wagon creaked again as the party closed the doors, preparing for the next leg of their journey—with one unexpected passenger in tow.

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Gareth Seaspray

519TuGaSe

Gareth tied the length of rope to secure the sail to the rigging of the small ship and watched as the wind caught the extended sail. A small vessel crafted to glide across the waves and make the most out of the area of the sail that now pushed the vessel ahead of another ship was they continued on their path.

‘So that’s the secret to the Surf Skimmer. It’s extra sails capture the wind as they come in any direction and propel us faster forward than the others. No magic other than nature itself.’ he muttered as he sad down next to them and the helm to make sure he can still control the rudder if he needed it. ‘But if I had a wind charm I could control the wind to towards the sails to propel the Surf Skimmer even faster. But at that speed I wouldn’t be able to turn.’ he paused as he held a bag in his mouth to grab retrieve some hard tac.

‘That’s what the other captains will come to realise. That speed is not everything. They need to read and speak to the waves, need to understand what they are doing and what’s coming.’ Gareth stopped to chew. As he watched over the moonlit waves that they skimmed over moving much faster now that they were a day off the coast.

While they were not in first place they had passed the majority of the other ships – their crew, captains and hired guards looking on in disbelieve. They had received some threatening gestures and words as they had passed the others and apart from a warning shot being received they relied on their speed to get out of range from anyone overzealous in their hunger for the podium.

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The Dance of Lace

518TuDaLa

After climbing possibly the most noisy stairs in any tavern they have ever stayed at the party walked down the hall where a few well sized rooms lay for rent. As the party searched for a clue they locked eyes on something that glinted from under the door of one of the rooms. The party found themselves knocking on that door which upon inspection had another of the same coin that had been left on their table at the base of the door.

As the door swung open they headed inside and sat around a table at the centre of the small room. As the old man hurried around and closed doors and curtains his posture changed until he was walking more upright. In the lantern light within the room his features seemed to relax more and by the time he sat down he looked like he could be a young nobleman instead of an aged pauper which is who he had appeared to be but a few moments ago.

He had a medium length beard speckled with grey through his cheeks and neck but a long stream of grey hair ran around his mouth and past his chin. His eyes were sharp, blue and intelligent and his hair was greying and messy – almost deliberately messy enough to make sure anyone without a keen eye for details would overlook him for being homeless or destitute.

‘Sorry for the delay in reaching out to you. I had to be sure you were the not the ones we seek.’ he paused as if doubting his statement for a moment. Shaking his head lightly he continued. ‘You can call me Lace and I am a member of Imgard’s Harpers branch. We have been tracking a few individuals who we believed were the cause of several missing peoples. However, as we moved in on their location we found their bodies – dead for about as long as we were tracking them.’ he thumbed at his temples.

‘For the last few weeks we have seen those same individuals around the city, and had reports of them showing up elsewhere through the network. I can’t make heads or tails of it but I suspect that its not good news.’ he paused to watch their faces. ‘This is where you lot come in. Neutral eyes to route out the infiltrators. We suspect that they know who we are and are making us look like fools but they wont know you. Besides. Everyone who is going missing are new faces to town, adventurers and the like. You would be both bait and trap.’

After the party left the room after talking to Lace they managed to lock eyes momentarily with someone who was descending the stairs. They had not heard anyone travel up them and as they saw the pale faced man with dark hair they failed to hear him descend into the room below. As they made it to the first few steps of the stairs they protected loudly at even the lightest of they party as they stood on the well worn down wood. This may be something Lace had an answer for or a suspicion about.

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Sven Ironwrought

517TuSvIr

The party walked through the gates of Wyrehaven not long after encountering the merchants and their guard, Sven Ironwrought. As they travelled the party discussed the normal hostile parties that they see on the road, where to find work and the best places to go for gear for adventurers and the like.

As they bid farewell to the merchants; Sally, Gabe and Roy, they followed Sven towards the Iron Gauntlet’s barracks, the cities own guard and militia headquarters. Waiting in the entrance for a few minutes Sven returned to them after going to talk to the captain the party were privy to many rumours and gossip.

As the guard Sven returned he walked next to a short woman with short cropped hair and calculating, tired eyes. As they stopped in front of the party the woman addressed them. ‘I am Captain Jin. I have heard of the reports of the goblin attack. I assume you will agree with me in saying that the goblins attacking during the day and this far away from their normal haunts.’ she looked towards Sven who nodded in agreement.

‘Aye, I don’t remember seeing goblins this far from the mountains before. I remember a few teams of adventurers going out to quell them last time they were getting a bit too much.’ Sven.

After a moment of thought. ‘I would like to offer you lot a job. Go and investigate why the goblins have come so far from their homes. It could be dangerous if they keep attacking, and something feels off about it. We can reward you handsomely for your troubles and see that you have supplies before you head off if you’re willing to take up this offer?’

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Tusicka Ignate

516TuTaRi

The night drew to the close with the city guard being called to instil order again, however it was the four diviners, the portent Quartet, who when walking amongst the gathered crowed instilled the calm across the masses. The party found a inn to stay in shortly after and due to the uncertainty within the city after the failed great divination they got a god price too.

It was morning when they descended the stairs to the ground floor of the Wondering Minstrel Inn where a woman in a red cloak was describing them in great detail to the innkeeper. As they made a noise on the stairs both her and the innkeeper looked at them with mixed expressions. While the innkeeper looked at them as if they were the carriers of a terrible plague the woman in a red cloak had the opposite; as if they held the promise of a cure.

‘Ah, just the people I was searching for. Innkeeper would you bring these fine people breakfast and what ever else they desire to eat or drink as I will be buying them a meal.’ she said as she pointed towards one of the few tables in the Inn. As they sat down the woman revealed herself to be Tusicka Ignate, the current Diviner of Fire and the one who was assisting the High Oracle last night in the ritual. She wore a small cloak that draped around her shoulders and a near dark charcoal colour tunic that looked quite ordinary. Her auburn hair seemed to glow as the light from a nearby window caught the edges of her hair. She was not exactly young but she had a youthful appearance that concealed her age well.

As they were brough forward plates of food and drink at their request and a purse filled with coins handed to them she looked at each of their faces in great detail. ‘Divination is a funny thing. There are a lot of influences when divining the future which is contrary to the belief of the majority of people in this city.’ she paused to sip on a mug of hot tea. ‘But there are generally a few things that stand out. Peoples faces, an article or shape of clothing and a place is generally enough to tie together the dancing flame with a prophecy.’

‘In this case when I searched for an answer I saw your faces down the the little perfect imperfections as well as exactly what you are wearing now. I saw the Innkeeper, the tavern and this very meal. Things being so perfectly predicted is reserved by prophecies given by the gods, not something conjured from a brazier.’ she paused again to sip from her tea.

‘So the question I have is. Why would my divination reveal you to me and in such detail if you were not either to blame for the current predicament or the ones to unravel what is going on.’ she waited and watched their faces for a moment with an amused smile. ‘Naturally I believe you are the ones to help unravel what is going on.’ she looked towards the innkeeper who was pretending to be busy and doing a lousy job of concealing her eaves dropping. With a few quietly whispered syllables Tusicka formed a glowing orb of energy around them that disappeared after a few heart beats.

‘I have shrouded what I am about to say so no ears, eyes or otherwise can hear what I am about to reveal to you. There is a foul plot afoot and I believe someone in the temple is stopping the oracles divination, interfering with the flow of magic so that our divinations are wrong. When I saw your faces this morning it confirmed that the temple is no longer the locus of power that it was, or should be. No, I conjured the ritual that led me to you quite a way away from the temple.’ she paused to look over at the Innkeeper who was still busy listening.

‘Magic is a fascinating thing. For everyone it is freely given as part of their lives. Intervention from serious harm, a dash of luck when gambling or simply finding one who matches your soul. Everything we do in life has an element of magic with it. But when you give yourself to the temple the world, the planes stop interfering with your life. You become wholly accountable for your own luck. I believe us meeting is a mix, my own interference with my luck and the natural luck of you being in the right place at the right time. I hope you can help me locate the truth at the temple as it seems not even the quartet or the Oracle herself is able to bend luck to our will until the interference is dealt with.’

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Sil Kilnen

515TuTaRi

Sil Kilnen had not fully recovered but it was with heavy persuasion that she forced herself out of the healers quarters to be able to take the party to where the attack happened. She was human, at least mostly as her ears were slightly pointed and the way she moved through the fallen logs, bushes and around the trees spoke volumes of her affinity for the wilds.

As she jumped down from a log she slumped over as she landed and clutched at her midsection where she had been injured. ‘It’ll be fine. We just need to go a bit slower’. she insisted. Her brown curly hair was lined with golden highlights that was lost in the gloomy wet weather that they were having. Before long those curls were tied up into a tight bun to keep the water from dragging them across her face and shoulders.

As she moved onwards it became evident why she wore baggy pants as the parties legs started to become the forests leaches favourite food. Yet the creatures couldn’t get a hold onto Sil as she moved swiftly across the forest floor towards the river.

As they approached the river though she stopped and pointed to where the river bank was. ‘Something isn’t right. The water line there, the shore was here when I was last here.’ she said as she pointed near a weed cover log. ‘Its receded despite the rain continuing and the wet season in full form.’ she thought as she moved closer to the river bank, a sturdy sharp filleting knight in hand.

She showed the party where she had been, and where the thought the creature had come from. Strangely the water had receded so much that the deep part of the river where Sil has believed the creature to have been waiting was a pool and the river trickled into it. Walking through the shallow river they could see several broken rods and parts of silken nets caught in the plants, branches and logs that were pressed against the side of the pool.

While she examined the remains the party looked around and noticed that water was still trickling downstream, but at a much reduced rate. As Sil followed their gaze she sighed and started walking. ‘We aren’t going to find it here. Let’s find out what’s blocking the water and we then we can continue the search.’

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Talley Rinden

514TuTaRi

The party had just finished their meals when they were shown into the pantry. The homely space was warm with several meals being cooked at once. The soft cool breeze that came through the open door caught their attention first moments before a short girl darted through it and into the street beyond. ‘That’s her. The girl that I leave food out for. Somethings wrong, she would never be here during the day.’ Glenda called out for the girl to stop but she had already gone.

The party were close on her heels as they raced to catch up with her. Many people simply stopped and pointed in a direction when they saw the party chasing after her. The look of disgust was plain to see on their faces as they gave up the location of the young girl that fled form the tavern. ‘The little rat when that way!’ one of them called out as they passed a woman that pointed towards an alley.

They soon caught up to her as she tries to push into a door that was locked. ‘Please don’t. I am just trying to find my friends.’ she sobbed at them. The girls name was Talley Rinden and she was young, too young to be on the streets. The party learnt that she had been forced to scrounge on the streets, and in the Hooting Owl Tavern, for food since her grandparents passed away from the plague the year before. She and a few other urchins had formed rallied together to survive but never taking more than what they needed to survive.

As they led her back to the tavern she explained how they had snuck in a few nights ago and had left the door opened when they had heard noises in the pantry. They had taken turns to sneak back to try and find their missing friend but one by one they all disappeared. The guards would have put them in the stocks for breaking in so they couldn’t ask them nor could they ask Glenda as the scary dwarf lady would not take kindly to them stealing from her.

But as they arrived back at the tavern Glenda placed a plate filled with hot food and let her eat. ‘Now where’s your friends lass?’ she asked. But Talley simply sobbed. ‘Lost’ was the only thing that came from her lips.

That’s when the party heard noises from the pantry – something much larger than a rat despite Glenda climbing onto the table and brandishing a cleaver.

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